


as long as stars are above you (and longer if I may)

by zayheathers



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Getting Together, Pre-Canon, a make out scene, keyla + saru have a cute ass friendship, not much actual chess, so now it's just a one shot, trope: betting on people, used to be a prompt fill fic but i decided to discontinue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayheathers/pseuds/zayheathers
Summary: Philippa and Michael play a game, and Saru and Detmer have an argument about a bet.
Relationships: Keyla Detmer & Saru, Michael Burnham/Philippa Georgiou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	as long as stars are above you (and longer if I may)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Radiolaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiolaria/gifts).



“It isn’t fair,” Keyla Detmer says from the helm, facing Lieutenant Commander Saru, who simply gazes at her. “You spend the most time with them. And, you know, that means you’ll know more and therefore have more aptitude to win the bet.”

  
  
  


Saru rolls his eyes at her from his own station, and says, “Don’t be ridiculous, Detmer. You and I _both_ know we are practically, to use a colourful human expression, ‘chained to the bridge’—”

  
  
  


“Uh,” Januzzi interrupts, “that’s not actually how the saying—”

  
  
  


“Nevertheless, my point still stands.” Saru says this with faux finality, and Keyla knows this means she’s free to continue her attack without fear of insubordination. He has this specific tone when he wants people to think he’s putting his foot down, so that they back off. Usually, it has the opposite effect.

  
  
  


“Yes but Saru, what about away missions?” She asks, quirking her eyebrow. “We both know I can’t leave the helm on those, and as second, you’d be inclined to follow them, generally speaking.” The delicately constructed face of faux befuddlement directed towards her almost makes her laugh out loud but, for Saru’s benefit, she elaborates. “ _You_ are the person who has access to them most often. So…” 

  
  
  


The Kelpien only waves his hand nervously, his mouth making a sound similar to some poor excuse for a scoff. “This is all besides the point, anyway, Detmer. My initial request was _just_ to… revisit the conditions of our little bet. Not the entire idea.”

  
  
  


“Which you wouldn’t _do_ if you weren’t sure you were going to lose it.”

  
  
  


“Loose what?” A voice comes from the bridge entrance, and Ensign Connor quickly scrambles upright from his slouched position where he lay over the console, to shout out his customary ‘captain on the bridge’ many moments too late. Detmer only rolls her eyes, trying not to grin at him.

  
  
  


“N-nothing, Captain. Lieutenant Detmer and I were just discussing an… activity we enjoy in our spare time. Which has absolutely nothing to do with our official work and we shall cease discussing it at this moment.”

  
  
  


“Nonsense, Saru. It’s alright to have fun, once in a while.”

  
  
  


“Why, yes, I know that, Captain, but, uh, well, we—”

  
  
  


“It’s a bet, Captain,” Keyla says, jumping in to save Saru but immediately regretting it when her Captain looks back at her and she has no idea what she’s going to say about said bet.

  
  
  


Thankfully, footsteps coming from the direction of the bridge entrance alert them to someone’s looming presence, and, with a quick look around the bridge, Keyla deduces that it could only really be one person: First Officer Commander Michael Burnham. 

  
  
  


“Ah, Number One, nice of you to join us. Finally finished brooding for your losses.” Captain Georgiou’s eyes have a special twinkle in them. Keyla likes to call it her ‘Michael Burnham Twinkle’ because… well, it’s self-explanatory. (But, if you must know, it’s because the ‘twinkle’ seems to be ever-present when Michael’s in the room, and doesn’t fade until the smile on her face does so first).

  
  
  


“I was not brooding,” Commander Burnham says in a petulant of a voice as she can manage, being the Vulcan non-Vulcan she is, after all. “And, technically, our game has not concluded. I am merely…” her head tilts ever so slightly, yet her arms remain clasped behind her back, “biding my time.”

  
  
  


“Oh, indeed. So I can assume, _logically_ ,” the Captain says with her chin resting on her hand resting on her console, and it’s so flirtatious that even Saru has to raise an eyebrow, “that your extremely juvenile play of E4 as your opening was, of course, part of the plan, and not a result of... let's say, distractions.”

  
  
  


“Naturally, it was a ploy. I like to keep you surprised, Philippa.” This time, there is no mistaking the slight raise of Burnham’s lips in a smile, and the grin Captain Georgiou flashes at her in return.

  
  
  


“Alright,” she says after a prolonged _moment_ , back in work mode, and Keyla almost has to stop herself from feeling just the slightest bit disappointed. She feels the entire bridge straighten their backs and blink away any weariness from their eyes. “How are we doing?”

  
  
  


“Course trajectory has been set,” Keyla replies, “We should arrive within the hour.”

  
  
  


“Well done, Keyla,” the Captain says, then continues to tease her helmsman a little less formally. “That must explain why you seem so relaxed.” The Lieutenant only smiles in response. “What of the planet itself? What do we know?”

  
  
  


“Our sensors have identified it as a class M planet. However, we are currently unable to track any life-forms due to the size and our lack of proximity. We should be able to get more resolute scans once we get closer.”

  
  
  


“Alright. Thank you, Saru.” Then, Captain Georgiou’s face lifts in a curious way. “Now, about that bet of yours? Would you care to tell me what it’s about?”

  
  
  


“Oh, I, well, I...” Saru sputters.

  
  
  


“Don’t worry, Saru, I’m only curious. You are not in trouble.” She then stops, considering something. “Though, I do understand your reluctance. It’s not very common for a Captain to engage in activities with her crew.”

  
  
  


“Oh, no,” Keyla says, adamant. “It’s not that. I-it’s just that, you see, we’re betting on two people down in Science. And, well, they’re currently unaware of it, and if you were to find out who they were…” She looks to Saru, hoping he’ll take the hint to continue. (He does take it, with a little jump as he realises so.)

  
  
  


“We, uh, feel _they_ would feel embarrassment at the notion their Captain is aware of their… uh, personal relationships. We are merely protecting their privacy.”

  
  
  


“Ah. I see,” Captain Georgiou says, sounding somehow as if _she_ knows something _they_ do not. But surely that's her imagination, since it's the other way around?

  
  
  


A look passes between the Captain and her first officer, and then a series of looks are passed back and forth shortly after. Keyla Detmer exchanges her own with Saru as she smiles, unable to help feeling like she’s missing an entire conversation.

  
  
  


But yes, that money is in the _bag_.

* * *

“You know.” Michael says as they take their break together, “about the bet.” They sit in the captain’s ready room, casually face to face. She knows what her first officer is referring to, and Michael says it like it’s an absolute fact. Philippa supposes it is.

  
  
  


“I do.”

  
  
  


“And you…” Michael’s face searches her own, and Philippa feels her skin heat at the close scrutiny. Although she knows the other woman can see her reaction, she’s thankful Michael seems to ignore it. Either out of grace or because she is thinking of something else, she does not know. “You aren’t offended by it.”

  
  
  


“Why would I be? A good Captain leads through the respect of her crew, not reliance of fear. I want my crew to feel comfortable not only with who _I_ am, but on who they allow _themselves_ to be in my presence. Remember that when you captain your own crew.”

  
  
  


“You don’t know that is going to happen.”

  
  
  


“I don’t _not_ know,” she grins back.

  
  
  


There’s a smile toying around with the corners of Michael’s lips, but Philippa knows she won’t let it win just yet. “Correct. But it is illogical to let oneself hope without knowing with certainty the outcome, as this will only lead to distress.”

  
  
  


“Perhaps, but, Michael, how will you ever get anything you want?” And, yes, maybe that sounded a bit more like a come-on than she intended (even then, she’s not being honest with herself), but she allows herself to lean forward anyway. Michael’s eyes squint playfully, as they always do, but her mouth parts slightly and her gaze flickers down to her lips, and Philippa feels warm.

  
  
  


They’ve been skirting around this for a while, now, and Philippa can see Michael depate the entire thing for herself in her head. Briefly, the other woman closes her eyes, but then she opens them and she is almost swallowed by the _want_ , the adoration, the dark smouldering affection in her eyes. Michael allows herself a grin, and she thinks it may be the most attractive thing she has ever seen.

  
  
  


“That sounds like an invitation, Captain,” Michael says as she moves around the table. She almost stalks, like _Philippa_ is the prey, and that’s not a feeling she’s entirely used to. It brings a newfound flush to her cheeks and a heat to her belly.

  
  
  


“Perhaps it is,” she breathes. They’re almost nose to nose now, Philippa pressed into the wall from where Michael’s backed her into it. “And please,” she continues, coy (she can feel the ghost of the other woman’s lips on her own), “it’s Philippa, remember.”

  
  
  


“ _Philippa_ ,” and by gods does she like the sound of her name on Michael’s lips. So much so that she brings their lips together, _finally_ , one hand on the back of Michael’s neck and the other cupping her ear. Michael’s hands are at her waist, and Philippa very much enjoys the feeling of them there. 

  
  
  


She finds she does want them to move, though. Up or down, it doesn’t matter, but she’s getting more frustrated as their kisses escalate. Michael has slipped a tongue into her mouth, and Philippa can only want to bring her closer and closer, want more contact. So she brings the other woman’s hand to her breast, and Michael groans.

  
  
  


“ _Philippa_ ,” she says, and Philippa wants to kiss the breath out of her again. “Wait, Philippa,” her lips break away from her own only to attach to the sensitive skin of her neck. “We should stop,” she says, only to keep kissing the smooth lines of her neck, moving to the column of her throat.

  
  
  


“You should… ” Philippa tries to say, but she finds her voice is exceedingly hoarse. Michael brings a little teeth out in response, and she lets out a breathy little moan that doesn’t quite manage to de-escalate the situation. If the way Michael palms at her breast and groans into the top of her chest is any situation, it does the opposite.

  
  
  


“If you—” _gasp_ “—really want to stop, Michael, then y—” Michael softly suckles at the skin just above her breast ( _when had her vest been opened?_ ) and she leans her head back against the wall, exhaling a shuddery breath, “—you should s-stop that.”

  
  
  


Michael pulls away yet again, this time kissing Philippa’s forehead in an extremely tender way, pulling her close, and Philippa feels her heartbeat quicken for a much different reason. “You are right.” Michael says, breathless. “I… apologise. We should have had a conversation first, discussed the implications of… everything. I am deeply—”

  
  
  


“No, Michael, don’t apologise. We can still have that discussion, but you’re right. We must take into account our ranks and jobs, and the public, Starfleet—”

  
  
  


“—the crew,” Michael says with a smile.

  
  
  


Philippa sends an endearing one back. “The crew.”

  
  
  


“This means Saru will owe me money. _And_ Detmer.”

  
  
  


“You bet on us?”

  
  
  


“No, I only… invested money in my best interests. Lieutenant Detmer informed me that it is a human activity many engage in for enjoyment and social interaction. I was merely assisting my integration into human society.”

  
  
  


Philippa only rolls her eyes fondly. “Under your own name?”

  
  
  


“Under an Ensign Kim. I’m aware that there are five of them on board the _Shenzhou_ , and as Saru is far too wary of a social faux pas, I was fairly confident I’d be fine.”

  
  
  


“Remind me to tell him that when he finds out.”

  
  
  


“He won’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, kudos + comments are very much appreciated but never mandatory <3


End file.
